Little Brother
by NSwisher1572
Summary: Sebastian's experience as Jace is ripped away from him. One-shot. Spoilers for "City of Lost Souls."


**A/N: **MY GAWD, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. MY. EFFING. GAWD. INSPIRATION, THY NAME IS JONATHAN CHRISTOPHER MORGENSTERN.

So, I've been sitting at my computer for the last hour, obsessing over this story. Funny thing is that it barely scrapes 900 words... I'm a perfectionist, okay? And with an idea like this, I just had to make sure I was satisfied. Earlier today I finished reading "City of Lost Souls," and, personal opinion aside, I was blown away by the wording of one certain scene during the battle at the Seventh Ritual Site, and then again during the epilogue. While I am of the wholehearted opinion that Sebastian is a right bastard, he gets some serious pathos in the last pages of the book. I've always had a bit of sympathy for the guy... come on. He grew up with _Valentine._

Either way, I hope you all enjoy this. I had a bunch of fun developing the style in any case. :)

**Disclaimer: **If I owned The Mortal Instruments, Clary wouldn't be so annoyingly Mary Sue, Simon would have more one-liners, and Jace and Sebastian would be getting some serious bonding moments during their whole "possession-bond" thing. As none of this has been accomplished yet, it's not mine.

* * *

**_Little Brother_**

_"There was a scream—a sound of rage and pain and terror, the sound of someone being brutally torn apart. _Sebastian, _Clary thought. Sebastian, screaming as his bond with Jace was severed." _– Page 490

_"'It was this horrible lost sound. He really did care about you in some strange way, I think.'" _– Clary, page 527

There was nothing like the heat of battle to get Sebastian's blood singing. He was surrounded by a sea of scarlet and darkness, forging his path through the pandemonium, cutting down anyone who attempted to get in his way. Snarling werewolves fell to his blade; opposing Shadowhunters were lucky to get within three feet of him before they were taken down by his dark army. He couldn't help but laugh at the effortlessness of it all. Bodies collapsed all around him in a ring, as if bowing before him, the way they should have in life. He slithered across blood-spattered grass, the slick sound of it practically audible, music to his ears. His laughter grew in volume, and he threw his head back to stare at the night sky, brandishing the demonic metal in his hand, obsidian eyes glazed over from the sheer adrenaline pumping through his veins.

The cacophony was enough to destroy any sane man's hearing, but Sebastian relished in it. The screams of those cut down… the howls of the mangy werewolves as they found themselves growing outnumbered… the shrill cries of victory from his red-clad allies, spinning in a chaotic dance around him. He reveled in the glorious tune of war, knowing his time was finally approaching. The Clave would fall prostrate before him in the face of his success.

He twirled the knife in his hand, plunging it into the hide of a wolf before spinning to cut the throat of an enemy Shadowhunter. The man fell to his knees, wide-eyed in shock, before giving a final rattle and falling onto his face. Sebastian wasted no second glance on him, submerging himself in the pulse of danger that encompassed the atmosphere. His heart beat wildly in his chest, his stomach tingling with a pure sense of _joy, _the sensation spreading to his limbs and adding new power to his deadly strokes. He laughed again, the way a child might laugh upon discovering a new toy, and extended his consciousness across the battlefield. He wanted to share this feeling with Jace. He wanted to show his little brother just how magnificent their rule would be once this was over; he just wanted to make his little brother feel good. He followed the psychic thread that bound them, as thin and strong as the silk his army's robes were made of. He felt himself approaching the end of it—

Sebastian gasped. There was suddenly a tugging sensation on the link, as if someone had grabbed Jace's end of it and pulled with all their might. He lurched forward, feeling sick, and grit his teeth. Someone was messing with him… with _them… _but who could…?

The knife fell from his hand and landed with a wet thump in the grass. He was dimly aware of his vulnerability, but he didn't care. All he could focus on was the overwhelming sense of _wrongness _in his mind. Some alien intruder was pulling on the thread, twisting it, trying to break it. He panted for breath as panic made itself known, and stumbled; he scrambled for the bond frantically, needing to gain control again. His connection to Jace… the sense that there was always someone else there, lingering at the edge of his mind… began to warp, clouding with shadows the same way one's vision darkened after getting drunk. Sebastian went to his knees, nauseous.

The jerking was getting fiercer. Whatever was trying to force them apart… it was definitely at least as strong as him… he had to push it out, take charge… he had to find Jace… he had to—

One sudden tug, and the thread snapped cleanly in two.

Sebastian screamed.

He fell to his side, curling in on himself. An all-encompassing blackness swept over his mind, covering everything in a thick fog of despair, cold and foreign and unfamiliar. Suddenly there was no second person. There was no presence tickling at the outskirts of his mind, the presence that was Jace. The edge of his mind was tattered with the forced, messy separation, and he could feel the destroyed parts going numb with shock. He felt as if a piece of himself had just been violently ripped away.

The battlefield had long disappeared in his vision. His entire being was obscured with the dark fog, with the heart-stopping fear and _loneliness. _It pawed at his ribcage like a tiger with claws extended, drowning out the other emotions flooding his brain. After so long sharing the space with Jace… his own feelings were finally coming out… no longer suppressed to make room for his little brother's… and none of it made sense, but he didn't care, because all he could think about was the terrible isolation engulfing his heart.

He wished the pain was physical. He wished he was being gutted, or having his throat cut, or losing a limb. He wanted to bleed. That pain he could deal with. But this… this traumatizing feeling of being alone… it was driving him insane…

He didn't know which way was up, down, left, or right. He couldn't understand his own scattered thoughts. His sense of direction was shot straight to hell. He was simply lost, and he felt as though he'd never regain his balance.

He wanted to die.

Why couldn't he just _die?_


End file.
